The God in the Car Part 28

"Oh, no, you don't," said Tom.

Suddenly Evan rose, opened the carriage door, got out, shut it, and lifted his hat.

"Good-bye," said Mrs. Cormack, smiling merrily.

"Good-bye. Thanks," said Evan, with unchanged melancholy, and, with another nod to Tom, he walked round to the path and strode quickly away.

"How absurd!" said she.

"Not at all. I like to see him honest about it. He's hard hit--and he's not ashamed of it."

"Oh, well," said Mrs. Cormack, shrugging the subject away in weariness of it. "And how do you stand banishment? Will you get in?"

"Yes, if you won't a.s.sume----"

"Too great familiarity, Mr. Loring?"

"Oh, I was only going to say--with my affairs. With me--I should be charmed," and Tom settled himself in the victoria.

He had, now he came to think of it, been really very much bored; and the little woman was quite a resource.

She rewarded his ironical gallantry with a look that told him she took it for what it was worth, but liked it all the same; and, after a pause, asked,

"And you see Mr. Dennison often?"

"Very seldom, on the contrary. I don't know what he does with himself."

"The poor man! He walks up and down. I hear him walking up and down."

"What does he do that for?"

"Ah! what? Well, he cannot be happy, can he?"

"Can't he?" said Tom, determined to understand nothing.

"You are very discreet," she said, with a malicious smile.

"I'm obliged to be. Somebody must be."

"Mr. Loring," she said abruptly, "you don't like me, neither you nor Miss Ferrars."

"I never answer for others. For myself----"

"Oh, I know. What does it matter? Well, anyhow, I'm sorry for that poor man."

"Your sympathy is very ready, Mrs. Cormack."

"You mean it is too soon--premature?"

"I mean it's altogether unnecessary, to my humble thinking."

"But I'm not a fool," she protested.

Tom could not help laughing. The laugh, however, rather spoilt his argument.

"Have it your own way," he conceded, conscious of his error, and trying to cover it by a burlesque surrender. "He's miserable."

"Well, he is."

There was a placid certainty about her that disturbed Tom's att.i.tude of incredulity.

"Why is he?" he asked curiously.

"I have talked to him. I know," she answered, with a nod full of meaning.

"Oh, have you?"

"Yes, and he--well, do you want to hear, or will you be angry and despise me as you used?"

"I want to hear."

"What did I use to say? That the man would come? Well, he has come.

_Voila tout!_"

"Oh, so you say. But Harry doesn't think such--I beg pardon, I was about to say, nonsense."

"Yes, he does. At least, he is afraid of it."

"How do you know?"

"I tell you, we have talked. And I saw. He almost cried that he couldn't go to Dieppe, and that somebody else----"

Tom suddenly turned upon her.

"Who began the talk?" he demanded.

"What do you say?"

"Who began?"

"Oh, what nonsense! Who does begin to talk? How do I know? It came, Mr.

Loring."

Tom said nothing.

"You look as if you didn't believe me," she remarked, pouting.

"I don't. He's the most unsuspicious fellow alive."